Grace of Action

Grace of action:
That's what it takes
On the dance floor...
Grace of motion,
Muted and coy,
Ease of the automatic as you
Fly like a gliding hawk
Scanning the skies, sweeping,
Prey scampering through the underbrush.
Striking like the hungry falcon,
Relaxed or
Only slightly tensed.
This is how,
This is how all
Are done well:
The little acts like words you learned
In grade school.
You learn them, play with them,
Like a curious child at a piano
Trying scales, melodies,
Delicate little patterns of notes,
Pleasing geometries of key-presses.
The words become sentences,
The sentences
The paragraphs chapters,
The chapters
The grace of God!

Grace flows like a wind through chimes,
Shedding eloquence capriciously,
Like water over a precipice,
Transfiguring the light into rainbows.
The water
Just flows,
Flows as water must.
The wind
Just blows,
Blows as wind must.
Our clumsy thoughts,
Our slow, rude
First steps,
Cut the channels,
The mighty canyons for our future grace,
But our grace itself
Is like lightning in a summer storm.
A mere word of thought
Flashes and the light
Illuminates all!
The thunder responds...
Moving mountains,
Calling angels and demons to new battle,
Unleashing forces barely comprehended,
As the mind of the winds,
And things just

George Chadderdon © 1998